


The Scorpion Part 1: The Shape

by devilgoat



Series: The Scorpion [1]
Category: Halloween (2018), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Fingering, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Oral Sex, Other, Possessive Michael, Series, Slow Burn, trans!michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 02:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16610162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilgoat/pseuds/devilgoat
Summary: Walking home one night and you hear steady breathing following you. Michael is visiting you once more after watching you spend time with a friend. He's more than a little jealous and wants to claim you as his own once more.





	The Scorpion Part 1: The Shape

There was a chill in the air. The wind rustled the crunchy, dead leaves that had fallen onto the wet sidewalks. Autumn had settled over the small town of Haddonfield. The cold, overcast air had caused the entire neighborhood to fall into silence. Like buried under a thick pile of snow, the world had calmed and quieted itself. No sound could penetrate it. Except for one. His breathing.

It was rhythmic and strong. The deep intake of breaths that slowly let themselves out, currently muffled behind thin, white plastic.

It was somewhere behind you now but you were not sure exactly where. You just knew that it was there, ever-present.

You were on your walk home from visiting a friend’s house. You had stayed longer than you planned to, but your laughter and jokes kept you hooked in his home and time ran laps around you. As soon as you realized how long you had stayed, you excused yourself politely and left. Your pace had quickened as you left his porch and started the short trip back to your home.

The breathing had now turned into panting.

The shift in breathing caused your heart to jump and chills to run through your entire body. You didn’t dare to turn around, but you knew that the breathing was getting closer. You walked a little faster as you turned onto your street. You could see the house in the distance, partially obscured by trees and dying leaves.

There was another slight change in breathing and your upper body tensed up. You had started to breath heavily as well from adrenaline and the amount of control you held towards your legs to make sure you didn’t start sprinting.

Now at the doorstep, you fumbled with your keys as you heard the breathing growing closer, with barely discernible footsteps behind it. Your keys jingled in your hand as you found the correct one and inserted into the front door’s slot. You pushed the door open and stepped past the threshold. The instant sense of security that involved being around familiar surroundings entered your body and your turned your entire body to face the street behind you.

The world fell into silence once more.

The breathing had stopped. As did the footsteps. The hush had fallen once more on your empty street. Whoever, or whatever, was behind you, was nowhere to be seen. You looked up and down the street, but nothing revealed itself to you. You let out the breath you had been holding, and the tension in your shoulders began to relax. You shook your head and closed the door behind you.

With your keys now resting on their appropriate hook, you headed through the living room and into the kitchen.

The back door was open.

Your heart skipped another beat and you hurried to close the door. As it clicked into place, you heard it again.

The goddamn breathing.

You backed up slowly, forcing yourself to take slow breaths. Both your steps and your breathing stopped once you backed into something large. It was warm, but you could’ve sworn nothing was there a minute ago. You carefully turned your head until you were facing the obstacle you had backed into. It was the chest of a person wearing old, slightly tattered dark blue coveralls. The chest was slowly rising and falling to the rhythm of the breathing that was growing louder in your ears. You looked up. Up the strong, sturdy chest. Up towards the small sliver of exposed skin of a neck. Up to a lifeless face. And although it was a face, it was not his own. His face. Him.

Michael.

Underneath the white plastic mask was a man. But inside of that man was nothing at all. Or so people thought. He was a nothingness that killed. An all-consuming void. Senseless and without reason. A void that had killed many and would most likely kill again. The Boogeyman himself. The thing of nightmares that every child of Haddonfield feared and the name they would use to torment one another.

And The Boogeyman was here, in your kitchen. In your tiny little kitchen that you cook breakfast every morning and listen to music when you wash the dishes. He was here, in your sanctum.

But you both knew that he belonged here.

He had been visiting you for quite some time now. You were no longer a child, and thus your belief in the boogeyman had faded away into childish tales and legends. That is, up until a few months ago. You had figured that he followed you home - just like he had on this evening - like some sad, lost puppy. He had been quiet, and you had no idea you had been followed. You went about your regular schedule, cooking, eating, getting ready for bed, and finally drifting off into sleep. And he was watching you the entire time.

You wished you could ask him what he was thinking that one night, but you knew he would never say. You imagined him outside of your house, peering into your window. He would have been cloaked in darkness, or maybe even have become one with it. He watched you in your most vulnerable state. You figured he would’ve been bored, watching you for hours upon hours, but you knew it fascinated him. Michael got to see the most intimate, private part of you. He saw you dance and sing as you washed your dishes. He listened to you laugh at your favorite tv show despite watching it in its entirety several times. He watched you undress.

Michael watched as you tossed and turned in your bed and he waited for you to fall asleep. Once your restlessness had stopped, he made his way around your home to your back door. It didn’t stand a chance against him. He was in your home in seconds. He took his time wandering through your home. He wanted to take in your scent, your essence. There was a strong fascination in the little details of your home that truly made it yours. He traced his fingers over the array of magnets on your fridge. Traveling through your kitchen, he made his way into the living room. You had left your sweater draped over the side of the couch after it had grown too warm for comfort. Michael took it and held it in his hands. He spent his time feeling the fabric underneath his fingertips before he brought it up to the front of his mask and pressed it against the plastic.

After a moment, he placed it back onto the couch and began to make his way toward your room. Leaving the living room, turning left and down the hallway to your sanctum, he stopped at your door. It was slightly ajar, and he was gentle with how he opened it. Despite a few creaks, you didn’t wake up, not until he had positioned himself beside your bed. He watched for who knows how long before you woke up for a moment, just to turn yourself around; when you felt a presence in the room. Your body froze in place, only your eyes darting from side to side as they struggled to get accustomed to the darkness.

The first thing to appear in your vision was the white of his mask. It was facing you, almost floating in the dark above his muted coveralls. Your brain tried to rationalize it all. Sleep paralysis? No, no, that’s not it. A dream? Yeah, that’s it! Just a nightmare from all those stories growing up about The Boogeyman. Michael Myers was a myth! Nothing more. You closed your eyes hard, willing yourself to wake up from this nightmare. But of course you couldn’t. And once you realized this, you allowed the fear to set in.

Michael was here in your home, in your room. It was like something clicked in your head, and you were moving. You scurried up over the other side of your bed and plastered yourself to the wall. Your throat was frozen, refusing to let out a scream even when Michael began to take steps toward you.

Your eyes grew wild with fear, and you began looking for a way out. There were two, in that moment: the door leading to the hallway, and the window. Michael was between you and both of them. He continued his slow pace towards you until he was mere feet away. He loomed over you, and all you could hear besides the pounding in your ears was the sound of his muffled breathing.

Michael was now right in front of you. His head tilted slightly as he watched your entire body shake from terror. His panting grew louder and you knew he was getting some sort of pleasure from this. He reached his hand up, and you were somehow sure there was a knife in it. You flinched and turned away, waiting for the hot burning sensation of the knife bursting through your flesh and into the deep parts of your body.

But it never came. Instead, it was the feeling of large, hesitant fingers stroking the side of your face. You gasped and turned back to Michael. His head was tilting from one side to another in fascination. You heard a small whimper escape from behind his mask so soft that even you could barely hear it. At that moment you knew that if he wanted you dead, you never would have woken up from your sleep that night.

For some reason, Michael was here. For some reason, he chose you. And for some reason, he chose not to kill you. Trained psychiatrists had tried to understand why Michael did the things he did to no avail. So how could a nobody like you even try to understand why he chose you? He would never tell you why or what made you so special. You were sure that you were completely unable to comprehend what was going on in Michael’s mind. Or if there was anything going on in there in the first place. That night, he showed you that he wouldn’t harm you. He pressed himself against you, brought his face close to yours, close enough to see his eyes behind the mask, and he bowed his head. You figured he was afraid of what you saw in those eyes. Michael Myers, afraid? But there was something in his eyes. A strange longing. A pain maybe. The way the dim light bounced off his glaring eyes softened him somewhat.

His breathing had quieted, and after a few moments pressing you against the wall, he stepped back. You didn’t think of running this time. All you could think of was the pain in those hidden eyes. And before you knew it, Michael turned and left the room. You heard the dull slam of the door as he left your room, but you knew he would stay near. 

At the moment you were just grateful that you weren’t murdered. But as time went on, Michael began showing up more and more. After you were comfortable enough, you scolded him for always coming into your home without your knowledge and watching you sleep. You demanded that he let you know when he was there or else you would have to tie a bell on him. Michael didn’t say anything, but the next day he knocked on the back door and waited to be invited in. It was obvious that he enjoyed watching you, and while it took some time to grow used to knowing he was always there, you took some strange comfort in it. You were no longer scared of intruders, not after the scariest intruder of them all was usually right outside. 

There were times when you had fallen asleep on the couch and woke up in bed, the covers placed over you. There were times you felt nervous being alone at home, but all you had to do was walk out the back door, call for Michael, and wait for him inside.

It always felt strange to see him in your home. At least during the first few minutes. There was an awkwardness to him. His usual fluidity was gone, and what stood in its place was a figure that didn’t know what to do with his hands as he stood in your kitchen. This continued for a while, and you were fine with it. You had a protector now. Someone you knew was willing to do anything for you. And “anything” included a lot for Michael. There were periods of time in which he’d disappear. They always ended with the reported disappearance or murder from someone in town or even a town over. The next night, Michael would visit again. You knew you couldn’t stop him from doing these things, and you were scared to try in the first place. Like the scorpion, it was in his nature to harm.

You were probably the only living being that had spent this much time with Michael since he was institutionalized , but you were no closer than the handful of doctors that tried to understand him. But you accepted it.

As cruel as it was to live with the knowledge of a roaming killer, you had grown accustomed to his presence. It was selfish, you knew that, but you wanted - maybe needed - this protector in your life. You needed Michael, and that grew more apparent as time went on. So you accepted his occasional leaves of absence, knowing that he would come back eventually. Sometimes he would arrive bloodstained and panting, fresh from the kill. You took him into your room and tried to undress him to tend to his wounds, and that was the only time that he didn’t allow your way. He grabbed your wrist and pulled it free from his coverall’s zipper. He grunted harshly, and refused to be seen. With time, his grip softened and he let go of you. He bowed his head: his own way of apologizing, before he pulled himself further onto the bed and laid back.

It was like he was dormant. He didn’t move, he barely breathed, but within a few hours he was sitting up again and moving. You figured he needed to rest in order to heal himself, and that removing his clothing would reveal an undamaged body.

Despite your months knowing each other, you had never seen his body, let alone his face. It was always underneath his mask. That was the one thing you never tried to take from him. You both had an understanding. He was permitted to watch you, and in exchange, he protected you. He made sure that you made it to your every destination safe and sound. You had no idea how he did so, especially in the day, but you could always feel his presence. And you could always hear his breathing.

Michael’s months of tailing and watching slowly brought out a part of him that you did not expect. He had a jealous streak in him. He watched as you talked to others, spent time with them, and had fun that he could not partake in. And while he never interrupted you, he felt the jealousy shake him to his core. He wanted to make sure you were safe, and he had no idea who these people were. He didn’t know their intentions. He didn’t know if you were truly safe. So he would stand and watch, prepared for them to take one wrong move, make one bad touch, and he would be there, choking the life out of them in front of you.

Thankfully, it hadn’t come to that yet.

You knew he would get jealous too, and for the most part you secretly enjoyed it. His jealousy meant more careful attention and a string of days in which he refused to leave your side. However, as time went on, his jealousy was coming to a head.

There were times he would get too close to windows as he watched you at a friend’s house, almost revealing himself to them in order to frighten them away from you. Michael had to be convinced not to kill those that would take you away from him. He would even be tempted to kill the annoying coworkers you occasionally complained about, and although you joked with him that he should make them disappear, you always made it clear to him that it was all fine and no action was necessary.

But he was a creature of jealousy, and you knew that despite telling him that you were only visiting your friend for a short time, he had gotten worried and watched you from afar. And now here in your kitchen, he was panting heavily in anticipation. His whole body seemed to vibrate as his head tilted to one side. You already knew what was coming. In the brief periods of time that Michael did not have you in his sights, he had the fear that you were harmed.

It was still so strange to think that Michael would be afraid of anything, but you knew that he was. Why else would he have these inspections?

These had only started occurring recently, and while slightly annoyed by their occasional bad timing, you enjoyed it all nevertheless. Michael’s hands slowly rose up from his sides and wrapped themselves around your body. With no effort at all, he scooped you up into his arms and carried you into your room. He let you down close to your bed, but you didn’t go to lie on it just yet. Michael could not take his eyes off of you. He took in a large breath, his tense shoulders slowly rising before lowering themselves once more.

A coy smile spread across your lips. While he would never tell you what he was thinking, it was obvious by how his body betrayed him. He took a step closer to you and hooked his thick fingers under the bottom of your shirt before pulling upwards. With your torso bare, Michael began his inspection. He needed to make that you were truly safe at your friends house. And thus he checked for any mark, bruise, or laceration that he did not recognize. He traces his fingers around your body, moving from your neck down to your shoulders, your chest, your stomach, until he dropped down to his knees in front of you.

You shivered at the sight of the figure so large yet vulnerable in front of you, but you didn’t doubt that he still held his domination. His breathing was growing more labored by the moment, and at this angle you couldn’t help but notice the growing shape in the front of his coveralls. You took your quiet pleasure with this, and while you had still never seen Michael naked, your imagination ran wild.

Pleased with the state of the upper half of your body, Michael sought to continue his inspection on the lower half by stripping you of your pants. His fingers fluidly unbuttoned and unzipped the front of them. He tugged them down and left them around your ankles, taking your underwear along with them. Still on his knees in front of you, Michael gently snuck his hands between your thighs and parted your legs a few inches apart.

Michael had done this many times before, and each time you had consented. It was a part of a ritual now, the two of you like this. He was a creature of habit, and observing was what he did best. He looked over every inch of your body with such concentration that you didn’t dare to say a word.

He leaned closer to you and your heat, the evidence of your arousal obviously showing to him. Michael tilted his head slightly as he watched your body shift with his gaze. He stayed and observed for a time before he suddenly brought up his fingers and rubbed them against your crotch, touching every area that he could. His surprisingly cool touch sent shivers through your entire body, and you bit your lip in order to keep your moans stifled. Despite your usually control, your legs trembled underneath you, and Michael had to use his spare hand to keep your legs separated once more.

Not sensing or feeling any unusual fluids or markings, he was somewhat satisfied. But for some reason, his fingers remained where they were. His unyielding gaze had returned, and you could hear his labored breathing begin to hitch in his chest. His fingers continued their exploration, and found their way towards your most sensitive areas. Michael’s fingers grazed just the right spot and despite your restraint, you let out a sharp gasp. Michael jerked his head up and looked at you, stopping all movement of his hands.

You realized he felt like he had done something wrong, so you shook your head and told him it was alright, and that he could continue. Michael’s gaze lingered on your face for only a moment longer before his renewed concentration focused on your arousal. His fingers were probing, rubbing, searching for another magic spot that made you let out your sounds.

You didn’t try to hold back on your moans anymore. You used them as forms of encouragement, hoping that they would clue Michael in on what felt especially good. His meticulous work of exploration came to a head as your sex began to leak. You could have sworn that Michael let out a low growl as his fingers slid across the increasingly wet skin.

Out of nowhere, Michael removes his fingers from your body and stood up to his full, towering height. Now there was no denying it, for the erection under his clothing had grown to its full size, only barely being held back by a thin layer of fabric.

Michael grabbed you by the shoulders and slowly led you backwards onto your bed. Almost tripping over yourself with your pants around your ankles, you managed to land safely on your back on top of your bed, your legs dangling over the side. Michael stood over you, the darkness of his mask hiding any view of his eyes - his lust. When he was sure that you were paying attention to him, your chest rising and falling rapidly from your arousal, he brought up his hand and wagged his index finger.

No peaking. No moving.

This was new. This was different. Michael usually would have finished his inspection there, but it seemed he needed something more. And you were more than happy to give it to him.

Michael went back onto his knees and pulled your pants and underwear past your ankles and tossed them onto the floor. You stared up at the ceiling, knowing precisely what his motions meant.

He delicately pried your legs apart, and you heard the once muffled breathing become exposed to the fresh air. He had partially lifted up his mask. It was just enough to let his mouth and nose come free of the thin, white plastic. You knew that the rest would remain hidden. You didn’t dare look down and break Michael’s trust. So instead you focused on the sound of his breathing. It went ragged when he first pulled the mask upwards, but had now slipped into a rhythmic pattern once more.

A wave of pleasure flowed through your body as his wet tongue sent shockwaves up your groin. Your hands gripped desperately at the sheets underneath you as your moans exploded from your mouth. His tongue twirled and danced on you, sometimes barely touching your skin and other times spreading itself flat and licking upwards. You had to resist the temptation to put your hands on his head, for you were scared of accidentally touching Michael’s face.

Teasing the most sensitive part of you with his fingers, he used his mouth and tongue to draw circles over your entrance. Shaking from the dual stimulation, your moans grew deeper, and longer. Drawn-out cries of desperation were filling the room, and the more that you focused on the fact that prolific serial killer Michael Myers was on his knees pleasuring you, the more intense your pleasure became.

This was the most active his mouth had ever been. His lips were sucking, wrapping themselves around you. They were surprisingly soft and wet, and Michael did not shy away from using them to his advantage. His greedy lips tried to take in as much of you as possible. His tongue was a whole other story. Michael’s tongue was warm and thick. It teased your entrance with quick flicks that turned into long explorations of everything he could touch. His tongue even pressed itself against your entrance, and tried to push itself in as far as it could go. 

Your hands were frantically clawing at the sheets now as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to climax. For once, you were the one panting, your tongue practically hanging out of your mouth and moans catapulting out from your throat. Michael’s eager licks grew faster and harder against you as he began to lose control of himself. Another harsh grunt vibrated against you as Michael grabbed you by your hip and pulled you against his face. His hand continued to work you, his thick fingers switching from rubbing to stroking to teasing within seconds.

You could feel yourself coming closer, and before you could, you screamed out Michael’s name. His movements became more frantic. He knew what he was doing. He wanted - needed - to make you cum. He needed to make you his, once and for all. He needed to take you. He needed to soothe the feelings inside of him that drove him to this. Hearing his name screamed aloud in a situation where he was not plunging in his knife but rather his tongue twisted him up inside. Michael did not want to kill you, but instead wanted to give you at least a little death. La petite mort. That would satisfy him. 

His hand worked you without any mercy or pleasantries. His sole goal was to make you cum and he was going to make sure that it was all him that did it to you. His tongue and lips continued pressing themselves in and around your entrance to the point that it felt like your entire lower body was vibrating. The hand not working you dug its fingers into your hip, and the short nails cut into your skin and bruised your flesh. His name flowed from your lips like a melody, and you could not stop yourself from saying it over and over again as you came. 

Your entire body shuddered and convulsed as you came against Michael’s face, his mouth and hands not daring to stop until it was all out of you. Every extra touch and kiss sent tremors throughout your body until he finally pulled away. 

Still staring at the ceiling, you heard the sound of him pulling his mask back over his face, his labored breathing muffled once more. 

Michael rose from his knees and stood over your weak, shaking body and cocked his head to one side, observing his handiwork and what he had done to you. After watching for a few moments, he leaned over you and grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you up to sit in bed. You were finally able to see him and his “face” again. You let out a tired smile and let yourself fall forward against his torso. You could feel the hesitation in his body as you brought himself to wrap an arm around you, keeping you close. 

You listened to the slow, strong breaths that he took. You brought your hands up to hold him by his waist, trying your best to keep him in place. Your hands searched his hips, his thighs, and finally to what you were looking for. 

His erection was as strong as ever under his clothing, and you wanted to return the favor.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just part 1 and I'll be adding to the series pretty regularly. Hope you all enjoy!


End file.
